Blame It On The Wolfsbane
by PriPri1977
Summary: Instead of enjoying a romantic getaway with Derek, Stiles was standing in Dr. Deaton's back room listening to the vet explain exactly what the poison darts Derek and Peter had been shot with were going to do to them. It wasn't good. Derek/Stiles/Peter


**Author's Notes:** I had a bizarre dream where Peter had werewolf cancer (don't ask me I have no clue what the hell werewolf cancer is!) He was very sick and had to have a special treatment that Stiles had to administer. One pill was oral the other had to be delivered through suppository (just don't even ask.) In order for the treatment to work, Stiles had to get him off so that the toxins could bleed out through his release. Needless to say it resulted in some bow-chicka-wow-wow with Stiles and Peter. When I woke up, the resulting fic popped into my head. You can all thank (or blame) being in the woods while watching Friday The 13th, Part 3 and eating pizza, Crunch N Munch and Dr. Pepper then going to sleep, for this awesome (awful) story.

Ginormous thanks to Jinxy for her encouragement writing the fic, cheerleading me through it, convincing me that the working title worked fine as an actual title, and all of her awesome suggestions that helped make this fic the masterpiece (travesty?) it is.

**Story Notes:** This is not for the faint of heart or easily squicked. Check out the taglist before reading!

**Tag List:** anal fingering, anal fucking, barebacking, blowjobs, bottom!Derek, bottom!Peter, bottom!Stiles, bukakke, come marking, dubious consent, established relationship, facials, felching, fuck-or-die, incest, mentions of xeno, rimming, sex-train, somnophilia, spanking, threesome, top!Derek, top!Peter, top!Stiles, topping from the bottom, watersports, Peter's a good guy in my head-canon

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**Blame it On The Wolfsbane**

Stiles heaved a heavy sigh as he scrubbed his hands over his face. Just one stinking Spring Break, that's all he wanted. And he didn't even need the whole break just two days alone with his boyfriend was all he was asking for. Between his class load, part time job as a research assistant and dealing with pack business, Derek and he rarely had a minute to themselves. They had set aside two days and rented a cabin so that they could be alone somewhere the pack couldn't interfere with the all the sexy times they were going to have. '_Were'_ being the operative word here. Because stupid rogue hunters had to come to town, start beef with the pack and blow all their plans out of the water. Now instead of being naked in a hot tub with Derek's dick in his ass, he was standing in Dr. Deaton's back room listening to the vet explain exactly what the poison darts Derek and Peter had been shot with were going to do to them.

It was not good.

"…Aphrodisiacal wolfsbane?" Stiles repeated.

"Repeatedly asking that question isn't going to make the answer any different." Dr. Deaton answered. "And yes, the wolfsbane in these darts has an aphrodisiacal effect on werewolves."

"So in a little while I'm going to have two super-horny supernatural beings on my hands?"

"Yes."

"So what, I'm gonna have to lock them up until it works its way out of their system?"

"Not exactly."

"Why did I know you were going to say that?" Stiles groaned.

Yeah so the wolfsbane? It was a very rare form that was very forbidden by hunters who followed any sort of moral code. The wolfsbane didn't work its way out of a werewolf's system like other forms of—

"_Sexbane_! Just call it sexbane, 'cause I know that's where we're headed." Stiles grumbled.

Of course it didn't work like regular wolfsbane. _Why would it?!_ Because if it did, it would make Stiles' life too fucking easy! Nope they had to have sex…with someone who was _not_ infected with the sexbane. And it was preferable if the non-infected partner were male. Stiles was only half listening to Deaton at this point; there was something said about the concentration of the wolfsbane and build-up and killer toxins that needed to be counteracted.

What he actually understood from the explanation was that he was responsible for sexing-up his boyfriend _and_ his boyfriend's bad-touching uncle and shooting as many "uninfected" loads of come into them as humanly possible in order to counteract the poisonous toxins currently working its way through their veins.

"…Does that sound about right?"

Deaton gave Stiles his patented _I'm not impressed by you_ look and then, "Minus the cruder bits, yes."

"How long do I have before it's too late to counteract the toxins?"

"You have at least twelve hours before the effects become irreversible, but that's not your problem."

Stiles heaved another heavy sigh rubbing his fingers over his eyes, "_What's_ my problem?"

"The effects are going to start kicking-in in about an hour and if the infusion has not already begun, in two to four hours, they are going to become uncontrollably aroused. Uncontrollable to the point where they're going to want to mount anyone or thing they can find, which, as I've mentioned would be counterproductive. It doesn't matter how many times they expel their semen if they aren't being inundated with uninfected sperm."

"How the hell am I going—"

"I suggest maintaining hydration. And trust me; the pheromones they'll be excreting will induce a sympathetically aroused state within your body. You'll be more than able to get the job done. I wish I could give you more assistance—"

"Oh yeah? Well feel free to fuck them better yourself. No? Didn't think so. I don't need your artificial wishes to help when we both know you tend to help in the very least way possible unless it involves Scott—of course the one fucking time Scott chooses to stay at school is the time I have to have sex with Peter. How is this my fucking life?! I—" Stiles cut himself off when he realized his rant was running away with him. "Look just stow the bullshit placating and if you genuinely want offer me some help, could you watch these two while I go get supplies?"

Deaton arched an eyebrow at Stiles; acrimony was something he usually kept on reserve for Peter (and Derek when he was being difficult.) But he supposed he should show a little compassion considering the young man was about to have an incestuous threesome with Peter's and Derek's dubious consent at best. "Supplies?"

"Food, water and some fresh clothes for Peter. Derek and I were headed to a romantic getaway so we've already got clothes in the car. But if I'm gonna be holed up in a cabin sexing up two werewolves for who knows how long, I'm gonna need enough supplies to get me through it."

"Of course Mr. Stilinski, that's very smart thinking, but you don't have much time, so please hurry."

Derek, who had been listening to the whole conversation from the other room spoke up, "Stiles you don't—"

"Shut up Derek. Like I'm gonna let you _or_ Peter die. Just let me save your little werewolf asses and we'll deal with the hours upon hours of therapy that will result from this weekend later." He grumbled before heading out.

Stiles climbed into the Camaro and rested his hands and head on the steering wheel, breathing deeply for several moments before accepting his reality and reaching for his phone. He sent a text to Cora and Isaac informing them that Derek and Peter were in need of some _special_ treatment, and that he had everything under control. They would be out of touch for couple of days, but he would text them the minute he could with updates on their conditions. He didn't bother to look at the multiple text replies he received or answer the incoming calls. There was no way on earth he was going to explain to Isaac and Cora that he was about to lock himself in a cabin with Derek and Peter and participate in what hoped to be a veritable sex Olympics.

Stiles rolled through the market like a man on a mission. He filled the cart with cases of water, orange juice, fresh fruit, protein bars and anything that didn't require more than opening a package and stuffing it into your mouth. On the way back to the vet office he stopped at Peter's apartment and grabbed a few sets of clothes and underwear. He figured most of their time would be spent naked, but even sex-poisoned werewolves had to have a refractory period, right? Either way the clothes they were currently wearing were bloodstained so they would need something to wear home…if they survived.

The drive to the cabin was thirty minutes, which was cutting it very close, but the cabin was their best option for privacy. Derek and Peter's apartments were pack domain and anyone could show up in the middle of their sexathon. Again, _how_ was this Stiles' life? Getting checked in and finding their cabin was surprisingly trouble free. He got their sex den opened up and hustled the intoxicated werewolves inside. They were still in control of their faculties, but it was quickly slipping away. "So, uh, why don't you two take turns in the shower washing off the dirt and blood before we 'get this party started' huh? While you're doing that I'll get our supplies set up."

"I'll go first. I'm the alpha." Derek said (read: slurred), giggled and headed down the hall toward the bathroom.

"Just be quick about it _alpha_ because Peter and I need a shower too."

Stiles hauled the groceries inside, putting most of them away, while leaving a few things out for easy access. He had no idea how the sexbane worked and whether or not their minds would clear long enough for them to replenish themselves. At least if there were a few things out on the counter they could grab a quick fix in between orgasms. Once the food and drinks were situated, Stiles went back to the car for their clothes. He hauled in three bags and headed for the bedroom. There he found two sets of shed clothing but no Derek or Peter. _Where the fuck could he have gotten to?!_ Stiles wondered before heading to the bathroom to check on Derek.

"Derek where did Peter…" Stiles stopped midsentence and stood there with his mouth hanging open. He found Peter. In the shower with Derek. On his knees. Swallowing Derek's dick like a porn star. Derek had his hand on Peter's head, guiding him—or holding on, he wasn't sure which. His head was canted back and leaning against the tiles of the shower wall. He moaned breathily as Peter's mouth slid down and took his entire, impressive length into his throat.

And just like that, the pheromones (read: visual) Deaton spoke about kicked in at full speed. Stiles groaned, "Fuck," and felt his cock twitch in his pants. When he looked up Derek was staring down at him with red-ringed, lust hazed eyes.

"Stiles," he growled.

"D-Derek."

"Take your clothes off." He commanded, "I want you to get in here and suck Peter off."

What Stiles wanted to say was, _Your alpha voice _still_ doesn't work on me_. But what actually came out was, "O-okay."

So Stiles began stripping off his clothes which was made difficult by the fact that he was still watching Peter deep throat Derek like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Stiles got stuck in his shirt when Peter went deep and Derek's hips jerked forward choking him. He backed off; spit and precome dripped from his mouth and down his chin. Peter wouldn't be put off however, and he dragged his lips along the underside of the shaft and over Derek's balls; he sucked them into his mouth while his hand wrapped around his length and worked over it.

"Stiles!" Derek's irritated call pulled him from his stupor and he continued his attempt at removing his clothes. "Hurry up; wanna fuck you." He said placing a second hand in Peter's hair and jerking him around until his mouth was where Derek wanted it. He shoved his glistening cock inside, careful not to go too deep, but rough just the same. Peter hollowed his cheeks and held on to Derek's hips as he fucked in and out of his mouth.

"Jesus—I…I need to fuck you Derek." Stiles stammered.

"Yeah!" Derek growled. "Want your cock." Apparently he was too intoxicated to remember that he had wanted to be the one doing the fucking.

"Ye-yeah." Stiles breathed. He was going to die before the weekend was out, but he was pretty sure he didn't care anymore. If anyone had told him that watching his boyfriend fucking his uncle's mouth would be an instant boner…he's not kidding anyone, he would have tried it sooner. There was a special place reserved in hell just for him. "I gotta get the lube." He said and rushed back to the bedroom to find the bottle of waterproof lube stashed in one of their bags. Thank God werewolves couldn't catch or transmit diseases because condoms were _not_ an option!

When he returned his brain nearly short circuited. Peter was pressed face-first against the tiles and this time Derek was on his knees. He had Peter's ass cheeks spread wide and his face buried between them. Stiles knew first hand just how wicked Derek's tongue was, so it was no surprise that Peter was literally clawing at the wall. He watched as Derek pulled his tongue away just long enough to press a finger against his puffy hole. Stiles was spurred into action then. "Here," he said moving toward the shower, opening the tube of lubricant and then squirting some onto Derek's fingers.

"Why do you still have clothes on?" Derek growled.

Stiles looked down at himself. "Oh, right." He mumbled before stripping off the remainder of his clothing. By the time he was done Derek had two fingers buried inside Peter, who was egging him on and begging for more.

"C'mon Derek, fuck me!" He demanded staring back at Derek with eyes glowing blue. "And you get in here." He growled, gripped Stiles by the back of his neck and dragged him into the shower with them.

Stiles stumbled into him, reaching out to grip Peter's sides for balance. Before he could berate Peter for being an inpatient asshole, the man pressed his mouth to Stiles' in a bruising, biting kiss. Derek pulled his fingers from Peter's hole abruptly and Peter bit down on Stiles' tongue at the brusqueness of the gesture. Stiles yelped and pulled away. Derek growled at the sight of blood dripping from his love's lip. "Gonna make me pay for that?" he goaded Derek with a wicked smile on his face.

In one swift motion, Derek was standing, forcing Peter further into the tiles, slicking his cock up with the excess lube from his fingers, lining up and stabbing against his entrance. "Derek, you'll hurt him that way!" Stiles exclaimed, but Derek didn't hear, or didn't care. He rammed himself into Peter, the older man snarling and shouting all the while. Quickly Stiles moved behind him and plastered himself to Derek's back, knowing that no matter how out of control he was, the alpha would never hurt _him_. Peter could be an absolute ass, but he wouldn't stand by and watch Derek deliberately hurt him. The fall-out from this was going to be bad enough without Derek retaining the knowledge that he all but raped his uncle. "Whoa, slow down big guy. I thought you wanted me to fuck you." Stiles breathed against his slick skin.

Derek rumbled at the sound of that, "Well hurry up and get your dick in me."

Knowing he could only hold off Derek for so long, he made quick work of slicking up his fingers and working them into Derek's tight pucker.

When he was three fingers deep, "'m open. C'mon an' fuck me already." He slurred and Stiles complied. His head was already beginning to cloud with arousal and he knew this might be the gentlest any of them would be with one another. Stiles wrapped his hand around his cock, stroked it a few times, thought about the fact that this was what his life had become since the night he was stupid enough to drag his friend out to look for a dead body, and then threw everything out the window as he pressed his swollen cock head against Derek's hole.

Stiles tried to push into him slowly, but once his head breached the tight ring of muscle, Derek grunted and pushed back, impaling himself on Stiles' cock. "Fuuuck!" Stiles cried. It was all mindless fucking from there. Stiles barely had to move as Derek's hips worked back and forth. He fucked himself down onto Stiles' cock and then drove forward, fucking himself up into Peter. Stiles just held onto his shoulders as Derek kept the train rolling.

Peter was growling and grunting against the tiles, urging Derek to fuck him _harder, faster, deeper_! Derek promised to shut Peter up later by fucking his mouth until he choked on his come. The mental picture made Stiles' hips stutter. He cursed and tightened his grip on Derek. He lifted his foot to rest on the edge of the tub, angled his hips up and began driving into Derek hitting his prostate with every thrust.

"Fuck Stiles, gonna come." He growled.

"Yeah." Stiles breathed and then he had a brief moment of clarity. It probably wouldn't be a good idea for Derek to come inside Peter. He hadn't bothered to ask Deaton if their semen would re-infect one another or worse yet, infect him. It was going to be a very messy weekend if Peter and Derek couldn't finish inside anyone. "Derek, need you to pull out when you come."

"No! Wanna mark him."

Stiles still didn't know if it was a Derek thing, a werewolf thing, and alpha thing or some combination of them all, but marking was a big deal for Derek, especially during sex. Even a chaste encounter with Derek left Stiles with some mark on his skin, visible or not. He once stated that he liked people know what was his. And Stiles was his. "Mark his skin. I wanna see you come all over his ass."

Derek did his version of a purr as he ran his fingers over the slick skin of Peter's ass. He smacked it, leaving a bright red handprint which faded much too quickly for Derek's liking. Peter begged for more spanking, to which Derek readily complied. He slapped each cheek in turn hitting harder and harder with every swat of his hand, leaving Peter's skin red and hot and triggering his orgasm. With a shout Peter came, coating the tile wall with his spunk.

"Fuck that's hot." Stiles muttered before he lost it, coming deep inside Derek, body shaking with the intensity of it all.

The sensation of Stiles filling him up set Derek off. He pulled himself from Peter's hole with a grunt and stroked his shaft a few times before painting his ass with white ropes of come. Stiles' hips jerked at the sight as his dick emptied inside Derek. "Holy fuck I'm gonna die." He panted as he pressed his forehead against the tattoo on Derek's back.

Derek managed to rinse everyone off and turn off the water just as it was starting to go cold. Once they had all stepped from the shower and wrapped towels around themselves, Derek pulled Stiles in for a searing kiss. "What was that?" Stiles asked dazed.

"Thank you for loving me enough to do this—you shouldn't have to do this."

"When you're pack, you do anything _for_ pack." Stiles answered simply.

Derek grinned at that. He had certainly chosen his mate well. It was true that pack did anything for pack, but what Stiles was doing went above and beyond. Werewolf families had a much more laid back view on subjects such as sexual orientation or sex within the pack/family. As long as it didn't harm the pack, pretty much anything was fair game. Humans...not so much. People still made a big deal out of interracial relationships let alone same sex and don't even so much as mention incest! This wasn't anything he had ever done with Peter, but it wasn't something that bothered him.

What bothered him was the circumstance under which it was happening. _Sexbane_?! He had heard of some forms of wolfsbane that affected werewolves sexually, but never anything that would kill them. Usually that type of wolfsbane was easily fucked out of their system and partners were always optional. And Stiles...this was something he would have liked to discuss with him first. He had learned a lot over the last several years, but there was still so much Derek had yet to impart about werewolves and what pack entailed. They'd have to set aside time for them to discuss things after this was over.

"My head is a little clearer; I'll take care of Peter and then get him to the bedroom while you get settled. Maybe bring a few bottles of water and some power bars; I think this is as much of a rest as we're going to get for the next little while."

"Okay, I'll meet you in there." Stiles said and left the bathroom.

Once they were alone, "Peter, how are you feeling?"

"Like I could put up drywall without a hammer." he said glancing down at his cock which was pointing at Derek. The head was peeking out of the foreskin, bright red and dribbling precome.

"We're gonna take care of you, but first I need to make sure we're clear on something."

"Derek as long as he keeps filling us with his life saving spunk, I won't hurt your precious mate. I know you still have a hard time forgiving me for Laura—"

"I will never forgive you for Laura; I've chosen to move past it so that I could keep what's left of my family in my life and in my pack. I believe you're sorry for Laura and that you're almost the man you once were, but forgiving you isn't something I'll ever be able to do. Just like I don't ever expect you to forgive me for the fire. But that's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about?" Peter asked his irritation growing; he needed to fuck something badly and his head was becoming more and more clouded as the minutes passed.

"I know how you feel about Stiles." His statement got his uncle's attention if the arch in his eyebrows was any indication—and with a Hale it was. "He told me all about you offering him the bite and where it was you offered to bite him. And even if he hadn't told me that, I would have noticed by the way you treat him. He reminds me a lot of Aunt Jean. She was an amazing woman, and I'm sorry you lost her, but just like she was the love of your life, Stiles is mine."

"So what am I _not_ allowed to do to your beloved? And let's be quick before my control completely lets go."

"Keep your cock out of his ass and we're golden."

"That's it?"

"Yes, but I reserve the right to expand the list at any time."

"Fair enough now can we go let your pretty little boyfriend fuck me, please?"

By the time they entered the bedroom Stiles had downed a bottle of water, devoured a power bar and was star-fished on the bed. His dick was rock hard dripping with precome. Before anyone could register what was happening, Peter was on him with a growl. He swallowed Stiles' cock and proceeded to suck him off fast, deep and dirty. Stiles cursed with surprise and grabbed two handfuls of hair, trying to hold on for dear life.

Derek was drawn to the head of the bed, where he rubbed his shaft along Stiles' delectable lips. "Open up for me." Derek whispered and Stiles complied. The angle was wrong so he couldn't manage more than alternating between pushing the glans inside his wet mouth and gliding the length over his pursed lips. Stiles pressed his tongue into his slit and was rewarded with a spurt of salty precome. Stiles whined, upset that he wouldn't be able to take Derek's load in his mouth; he _loved_ swallowing Derek's come.

Stiles was jerked from his thoughts when the tip of Peter's spit slicked finger breached him. His hips ground down and his asshole sucked the finger in to the last knuckle. "Fuck." He cried against Derek's dick, the vibrations making his groan.

Derek was torn between trying to watch his cock slide along Stiles' pouty lips and watching Peter choke himself on Stiles' cock. When Stiles grunted that he wanted to come in Peter's mouth and watch him swallow every bit of him down, Derek's eyes were drawn to that. Deaton had said to infuse them, but he didn't specify how. He supposed an oral saturation was just as good as anal.

Peter swallowed around Stiles, held him in his throat for a few seconds before backing off and driving the tip of his tongue into Stiles' slit. He moaned around Derek's cockhead, sending even more vibrations through the older man. Derek growled for Peter to make Stiles come so he pressed his tongue against the underside of Stiles' shaft, pressed his figure against Stiles' prostate and began bobbing up and down his length with abandon. Just before he could work a second finger inside his clasping hole, Stiles was shouting and coming down Peter's throat. He swallowed every bit that he could and then lapped at the shaft and balls, chasing the drops that had spilled from his mouth. Watching Peter's redden mouth, slick with spit and come, lick up Stiles' come set Derek off and he came with a growl, decorating Stiles' face with milky ropes.

Peter, who had been humping against the mattress the entire time, came all over himself moments after Derek.

Derek, who was still somewhat clearheaded, went to the bathroom to retrieve a wet cloth. He returned to the bed and cleaned all traces of his release from Stiles' face, and then cleaned up Peter as well. It was then that he noticed that none of them currently had a raging hard-on. He manhandled Stiles to lie against the pillows in the center of the bed and ordered Peter to eat and drink something while they had the chance. Once their hunger and thirst was sated, each moved to lie beside Stiles, who was already passed out. So Derek and Peter followed suit until they were ready for the next round.

When Stiles woke it was to Peter riding his cock. His eyes glowing electric blue and his fangs were digging into his bottom lip, stifling his whimpers. "Oh holy God!" he cried and his hands moved to grip Peter's hips. Derek was beside them pulling on his cock with slow leisurely strokes, eyes dark with lust. Peter ground down on him hard, rocking back and forth before lifting up and dropping down on his cock. He rode Stiles like a man possessed…or a man infected with sexbane. _Whatever!_ If Stiles' life wasn't the epitome of crazy he would have thought this was the most perverted dream he had ever had. But his life _was_ crazy and his dick was buried in the tight clutch of his pseudo-uncle's ass and fuck if it wasn't the most heavenly feeling ever! The fit was so snug it was nearly painful, and Peter contracted around him on every upstroke, like he was trying to keep Stiles' cock locked inside him.

Stiles was completely lost in pleasure, spouting incoherent words when he felt a hot splash against his neck and cheek. He opened an eye and saw Derek aiming his cock down at him and shooting thick jets of come onto the side of his face. Then Peter was growling, pulling himself off of Stiles' cock and straddling his chest. He stroked his cock several times before moaning and pointing his shaft down at Stiles who closed his eye just as the first stream of come hit his cheek. Stiles moaned as Peter coated the other half of his face with his hot release. Stiles felt it splatter against his forehead and drip down into his eyes, oozing down his chin and neck. He could only imagine what kind of picture he painted covered in both Derek's and Peter's spunk. He wished he could see it. He wished—"Make me come!" he begged.

Realizing they had neglected Stiles, Derek nudged Peter to scoot back down his body and finish what he had started. "Shit!" Stiles cried when Peter sunk down onto him. He was tight and throbbing around him and Stiles thought (not for the first time) that he just might die from the pleasure of it all. He only managed a few bounces up and down on Stiles before he jerked up straining as he emptied himself into Peter until he fell back against the mattress completely boneless.

Peter rolled off of Stiles who turned his head and managed to wipe away the come gluing his eyes shut just in time to see Derek manhandle his uncle's legs to his chest, lifting his ass in the air. Derek leaned down, spread Peter's cheeks and proceeded to lap at his abused red hole, licking up the come that had leaked out of him. He shoved two fingers into him, pushing some of semen back inside.

"Oh my God." Stiles groaned and just like that his dick was growing to new life. Derek gently laid Peter aside to recover while he climbed over Stiles to straddle his hips. He ground his ass against the rapidly growing erection, fattening it up more and slicking up his ass at the same time. Derek had fingered himself open while watching Peter prepare himself for Stiles, so he was already wet inside. He lifted up, reached back and placed the head of Stiles' dick at his entrance. Derek looked down at a come covered Stiles; his eyes flashed red before he sank down on him. It was a fast, hard ride. Stiles held on to Derek's flexing thighs and just watched through half-lidded eyes as Derek got himself off on his dick. He couldn't do anything but watch and feel and he blacked out when his climax swept through him.

When Derek next woke, he was in the bed alone. He jolted up abruptly looking around the room, but seeing no one. He followed the sound of moaning to the bathroom where he found Stiles leaning the side of his head against the tiles while Peter was on his knees swallowing his cock. Derek felt a streak of possessiveness pass over him and suddenly had the urge to _mark_. He stepped up to the very edge of the tub, grasped his cock and aimed. He closed his eyes in concentration, but flicked them open when he felt the first stream of piss leave him. Derek watched as it hit the side of Peter's face and down his neck, Stiles' hip and side. If he wasn't so far gone with desire he would have felt bad about not discussing this with Stiles first. They had never tried watersports before, but it was something that clawed at the back of his consciousness. The animal in him always wanted to mark Stiles as his. And now, thanks to the sexbane, he felt the need to mark Peter as well.

Derek came back to himself when he heard Stiles' choked moan. He was coming in Peter's mouth, and the alpha couldn't help but wonder if it was the marking had caused it. When the last shudder left his body and Peter released his softening cock, Stiles reached out and pulled Derek into a heated kiss. "Promise we'll do that again when there isn't wolfsbane involved." It made Derek's wolf howl in satisfaction.

It was after dinner on day two and Stiles had lost count of the number of times he had climaxed. But he no longer felt the burning need to fuck; it was taking longer for him to regain an erection and Derek and Peter's eyes were clear again. It seemed as though they were finally free of the sexbane and Stiles didn't feel worry tug at him as he watched Peter push his cock into Derek's ass. Stiles stroked himself lazily, wanting to build up his pleasure slowly. He had about one good orgasm left in him and he wanted to make it count. He moved his hand down to fondle his balls as he watched Derek push his ass back onto Peter's dick. "Don't get gentle now!" Derek snarled.

Peter, not one to disappoint his alpha, tightened his grip on Derek's hips and pulled him back as he thrust forward. The obscene sound of flesh slapping echoed throughout the room and Derek was making noises that went straight to Stiles' dick. He had to stop touching himself completely as the sight of Peter pounding into Derek worked him up to the point that his cock was straining against his belly and spurting pools of precome over his skin. "Don't come Derek," he begged, "Need you to fuck me." Stiles hadn't had a cock in his ass all weekend and he ached with need.

"Fuck." Peter choked out. The thought of seeing Derek fuck Stiles pushed him over the edge and he shot his load into Derek grunting with each thrust as his balls emptied. When he was done, Peter pulled out of Derek and dropped down onto the end of the mattress, ready for a show.

Derek made his way up to Stiles, accepting the bottle of lube as it was handed to him. He coated his fingers and then took his time circling his index finger around Stiles' rim. He teased it until the furled opening loosened and sucked his digit inside. "Fuck, someone's ready." Derek moaned.

"So ready." Stiles murmured.

Derek quickened his pace, adding a second and then third finger, until Stiles was grinding down and riding his fingers. He pulled them out and Stiles whined at the absence, but he wasn't empty for long. Derek hastily wet his cock and was pushing in before Stiles could even voice a complaint. Both let out low moans as Derek bottomed out. He took a moment to catch his breath and to make sure Stiles was ready and then he pulled out to the tip and slid back in agonizingly slow. Derek kept this up, sometimes pulling out completely, making Stiles whine and watching as his ass clasped trying to suck him back inside. But Stiles couldn't handle the torment for long. "Stop fucking teasing me you bastard!"

Derek grinned, "What's wrong baby?"

Stiles growled, "Fuck me like you mean it Derek!"

Derek hooked the back of Stiles' knees over his shoulders and leaned down with his elbows pressed into the mattress bracketing Stiles' head, "You want me to fuck you harder, Stiles?"

"Pound my ass so hard that I'm open for you for days!"

Derek growled and couldn't stop his fangs from descending at that request. He looked down at Stiles, his eyes crimson and then began pistoning his hips, slamming himself into Stiles' ass with supernatural speed.

Stiles wasn't sure about much after that. He thinks he screamed. He's pretty sure he cried. And he definitely came when Derek fully shifted into his beta form. His orgasm was so strong it was almost painful. Stiles blacked out.

When Stiles came to, he was completely spent. His limbs were limp, and there was an ache deep within him that made him grin with satisfaction. He tried to stretch but found he couldn't move his lower body. Derek's arms were wrapped around his legs; his face was buried in his ass, lapping at his hole. If he knew Derek, he was paranoid that he had injured Stiles and was doing what he could to ease the hurt. "C'mere Sourwolf. 'M okay." Stiles slurred tiredly as he tugged lightly on Derek's hair to get him moving.

Derek maneuvered himself to lie over Stiles, pressing worried kisses to his neck and face before Stiles captured his mouth and gave him a kiss that said he was happy, sated and intact. "You're sure—"

"Shhh," Stiles quieted him. "I'm good. Tired, but good."

"I let Peter take the Camaro home and booked us one more day, so just relax and let me take care of you."

Stiles smiled sleepily, "You always take care of me."

Derek shook his head. "This time you took care of me." He said, his voice taking on a serious edge, "You saved our lives Stiles. I can't—"

"Par for the course wolfykins, you'd have done the same for me."

But Derek wouldn't be put off, "Thank you Stiles."

"Any time, Boo." He yawned.

Derek frowned at the nickname, but knew Stiles generally spoke in nonsense, more so when he was tired. "Get some sleep, Stiles." He said and shifted until he was spooned up against Stiles' back, his nose brushing against Stiles' nape.

They were quiet for a few minutes and Derek thought that Stiles had finally dozed off, when his breathing suddenly quickened. "Stiles?"

"So, incest is a thing with werewolves, huh?"

There was a brief pause before Derek found his voice, "It's not taboo with us, no." he said, his voice tight.

"It's cool Sourwolf; if all of you Hales fuck that good, I'm down."

Derek arched an eyebrow and popped his head up to look down at his mate. Could he seriously be that lucky, or was it just the exhaustion talking?

"And watersports have been moved to the kink!yes list." He murmured.

"O…kay?"

Stiles was quiet for another few minutes and Derek relaxed again thinking they would finally get some sleep. But his wily mate had lulled him into a false sense of security. "So is sex in alpha form a thing that happens too?"

Derek stiffened at that, "Is that something you would want to happen?"

"Is that something _you_ would want to happen?" Stiles retorted.

Derek was stuck. Either answer could go bad. He didn't know if Stiles was testing him or not and the idea of giving the wrong answer frightened him. But in his heart he knew Stiles wouldn't break up with him over kink negotiation. He also knew that he could be truthful with Stiles. "Yes." He said so quietly that Stiles almost missed it. Then louder, "Yes it is. It's something I've wanted for a long time. I want _everything_ with you Stiles. I'll take whatever you're willing to give." He said and punctuated his words with a press of lips along the back of his neck and shoulders.

"Mmm," he sighed leaning into the kisses. "Awesome. Next time I'm on break we'll have to reevaluate our kink list 'cause it seems you've been holding out on me. Right now though," he said through a loud yawn, "sleep."

Derek smiled as Stiles finally settled into sleep. "Sleep Stiles." He murmured, tucked himself more snuggly around his love and followed him into a deep, sated slumber.

**Fin**


End file.
